In A Wonderland, They Lie
by arsenicarpeggio
Summary: Seven things that never happened to Angel and Collins. A series of seven unrelated one-shots. Massively, blatantly A/U.
1. Don't Stand So Close to Me

**In A Wonderland, They Lie**

Seven things that never happened to Angel and Collins.

A/N: First fanfic I've dared to publish on here , so... here ya go! I have the majority of this written, and updates will come as quickly as I can write. I'm a musical theater major with a funky schedule, but hopefully, that won't impair updates. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Do not own; wish I did, because there's no way in HELL I would let Vanessa Hudgens play Mimi.

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i. Don't Stand So Close to Me

Professor Tom Collins takes another swig of his bland, lukewarm coffee; his favorite mug leaving a wet ring on the essays he has to grade tonight. He rolls his eyes and shifts the pile out of the way of his mug. His fingers itch to grab one of several joints he has tucked away in the top right-hand drawer of his desk and light up, but he restrains himself. Only another ten minutes or so before he can escape to one of the courtyards and blaze up. His students are taking an exam and murmuring amongst themselves, but Collins doesn't care. He has a terrible hangover after Roger's show last night (alright, this morning) and the pounding behind his eyes is growing stronger and stronger.

The party last night had been wild. It was Roger's birthday, and the Well Hungarians had a show at CGBG's. The gang had stayed late after the show: smoking, drinking and generally loving life. He and Maureen had gotten into a drinking contest, which he managed to beat her at (but just barely). He felt warm and fuzzy and mellow, and the bowl or two that he smoked in the bathroom certainly helped. More than once, Collins had found a pretty young girl wrapped around him. He was flattered, but patiently peeled each girl off and directed them toward Roger or Benny. There had, however, been a young man he couldn't take his eyes off all night. A young Latino man, whose skin seemed as sweet and soft as caramel, was sitting at the bar nursing what appeared to be a screwdriver. He wore a tight red tank top and black jeans that seemed to be almost painted on. Collins hadn't actively pursued, let alone thought about, the male sex in several years, but this young man positively made his mouth water. Collins caught his eye and a sweet smile spread across the other man's face. He cocked his head in a clear invitation for Collins to join him. Collins grinned and slammed his Stoli on the rocks, before-

"Collins! Baby, where have you BEEN all night?" Maureen draped herself over his shoulders and playfully licked his face. "Marky's buying another round and you sure could use the free booze, baby!"

"One sec, Mo-" He glanced back to where the young man had been sitting to find him gone. Collins groaned before following Maureen back to their table. He plopped down between Roger and Mark, grabbing a shot of what was probably whiskey off the table and slamming it. His friends cheered him on- "Collins, you're like a fucking TANK!" Roger had crowed- but he really just wanted to find that man. Who was he? Did he know Roger? Why was he at the bar?

The bell rings, shaking him out of his stupor. His headache immediately intensifies as his students run out of class, slamming their exams on his desk as they vie to be free of educational torment. After his classroom is empty, he groans and takes another swig of his now cold coffee.

"Professor Collins?"

He swallows hard, setting his mug down a little too hard for normalcy. He glances up at the student: it's Angel Schunard, in baggy sweatpants, a fitted t-shirt and a beanie, which just barely manages to keep his shaggy dark hair out of his eyes. "What can I do for you, Angel?" He asks, leaning back in his chair. "Did you have trouble with the exam?"

Angel laughs and his cheeks flush a dusky pink. "No sir." He is then silent and simply gazes at Collins, the corners of his mouth lifted ever-so-slightly in a smile. Collins doesn't quite know what to make of this.

"It's been a long day, Angel." He eventually says, his eyes betraying how tired he is. "You can always talk to me, but I'm exhausted, so just tell me what's bothering you or what you want." He is really reaching to remain patient and understanding when he really just wants to light up a joint and go home to bed.

"You, Professor." Angel responds simply, as innocently as if he was discussing grades with Collins. "I want you."

Collins is far too tired for a big reaction, but he is clearly taken aback. His breath catches and blood rushes to his face, among other places. He fumbles for his coffee and manages to swallow some without dribbling on himself. "Excuse me?" He manages.

Angel scoots his lithe body onto Collins' desk, now sitting on top of his classmates' essays. "I want you." He repeats slowly. "Last night, at CGBG's, you couldn't take your eyes off me. And I wanted you so badly." He says this last bit rather breathily, a light giggle escaping. "And I still do."

And then it hits Collins. The man across the room had been Angel! He had certainly dressed up for the club last night and the difference was incredible. Angel is even attractive now, in his sweats and beanie. He remembers how delicious he had looked last night- the red making his skin and eyes pop, how unbelievably tight his jeans had been- and closes his eyes, savoring the image. But this is his student. "Mr Schunard-"

"Angel."

Collins inhales deeply. "Angel. How old are you, exactly?" He asks, massaging his temples and shutting his eyes.

"I'm 20." And suddenly, there are small, soft hands rubbing his neck. Soft puffs of warm breath hit his ear, and he shudders. A soft moan escapes his lips. "No day but today, baby."

"How did you get into CGBG's?" Something, anything to distract him from how much he wants him.

"A really good fake id." Angel is lightly nibbling on his ear now.

Collins wants to protest. Everything that's moral and logical in him is screaming in protest. He's a student, he's too young, Collins hasn't even been with another man in so long! But he voices none of this. Something is drawing him to Angel, even if he's not quite sure what it is. The releasing tension in Collins' shoulders, combined with the sweet smell of Angel's breath and the stress of the day makes his decision for him. He spins in his chair in the blink of an eye: Angel's hand slide around to the back of his neck and he gracefully tumbles into Collins' lap. "You okay, honey?" Collins rumbles, his voice resonating through his chest and pleasantly buzzing through Angel's body.

"I'm afraid so." Angel whispers, pressing his body against Collins before kissing him deeply. Collins is immediately engulfed in a pleasantly warm sensation, even though goosebumps are rising on his skin. This... this is good. This is yes. Collins doesn't stop to analyze the nonsense running through his mind, all he can focus on his the delicious sensation on his lips and the sinful little body pressing against his. Time is passing, but neither man cares. They're lost in their own world of feeling, senses and unidentifiable emotions. A sudden bang from the hallway outside the classroom startles Collins, and he gently pries himself away from Angel. The two gaze at each other before laughing. It is clear to Collins that he and Angel have intense chemistry and a great dynamic. Before he actually can think about it, he blurts, "Come home with me."

Angel raises an eyebrow but smiles, looking rather pleased. "That was easier than I anticipated." He admits with a laugh.

Collins blushes. "That wasn't quite what I meant, but... well..." He laughs now, surprised at how comfortable he is with Angel. "I want to take you to dinner, and I want you to meet my friends." He states, gently stroking Angel's cheek with his thumb.

"Okay." Angel murmurs before leaning in and kissing Collins again. This kiss is slower and more intense than their previous, and Collins can practically feel himself melting into his chair. He isn't sure of what's going to come of this, but he has a good feeling about the rest of the school year.

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And there's chapter one! I have part two finished and am about halfway through part three. Feel free to leave feedback; concrit is just as loved as regular reviews!


	2. Haven't You Heard the Word of Your Body?

**A/N**- Here's the second chapter! I forgot to note in chapter one that the title comes from "Of Alice in Wonderland" by Lewis Carroll. Each "chapter title" (or segment title) comes from a different song.

Okay. In this particular AU, neither Angel nor Collins are HIV+. This is primarily fluff with a touch of angst. The next segment, which will be up in the next several days, is extremely long and extremely angsty, so appreciate the fluff while it's here! Mimi also makes a cameo in this chapter. =D Enjoy, and review please!

Disclaimer: Still applies. I definitely don't own.

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ii. Haven't You Heard the Word of Your Body?

Angel runs to the mailbox. The letter isn't supposed to be here until tomorrow, but she's impatient, damnit! She fumbles with the keys a moment before finally sliding the correct one into the right lock. She yanks out the thin stack of mail and begins ripping through it. Chain letter, chain letter, junk mail, medical bill, a letter from Thomas's brother and... a letter from NYU's Langone Medical Center! Angel squeals and rips open this last letter; the rest of the mail flies through the modestly decorated lobby.

"Dear Mr Schunard... the medical professionals here at NYU... after long and careful consideration, you have been approved for gender reassignment therapy and surgery. Please call Dr Burke DeWitt by... scheduling the process." There is a large mass of scribbles at the end of the letter, presumably the doctors, surgeons and members of the board.

Angel is speechless. Tears well up in her eyes and steadily stream down her cheeks, wrecking her flawless make-up, but she is too overwhelmed to care. In several months, she will finally, finally be an actual woman. It's almost too much for her to comprehend at the moment, so she takes several deep breaths in an attempt to relax. It doesn't work.

"Baby, are you alright?" She hears Thomas behind her and hastily wipes away her runny mascara. Beaming through her tears, she hands Collins the letter, small sobs of joy escaping her.

Thomas speeds through the letter, his tense expression quickly melting to one of pure, unadulterated joy. "Oh, my Angel..." He murmurs, pulling Angel into his arms and spinning her around. He throws his head back in a wild laugh that booms through the lobby, shouting, "My girl's getting her surgery!"

Several of the other tenants who have the misfortune of being in the lobby at the same time awkwardly applaud before getting the hell out of there.

"We, my love, are going out to celebrate. What are you in the mood for?" Thomas asks, gently setting his lover down.

"Indian! Celebratory curry sounds divine, doesn't it, Thomas?" She is floating on air, she is up in Heaven with the other angels. She plants a thorough kiss on her boyfriend before pulling out a compact to fix her make-up.

"Absolutely." He replies, wrapping his arms around her waist and peering at her around the compact. "You're gorgeous, even with raccoon eyes." He tells her, smoothing a wayward strand of her wig that's threatening to lodge itself in her mouth. She rewards him with a kiss, and they leave.

Several weeks later, Angel is a quarter-way into her hormone therapy. Despite the rather unpleasant side effects- constant headaches, muscle aches, nausea and dizziness-, she remains happy and loving, although there are days where she doesn't have the energy to put on her wig and make-up. On these days, she either wears her comfiest sweats and spends the day cuddling Thomas in bed, or Thomas will call Mimi and have her come over to do Angel's make-up. It's things like this that really make Angel appreciate what a wonderful man her lover is. When Angel first confided in Thomas about wanting the surgery almost a year and a half ago, she had been terrified that Thomas would leave her- after all, they were two gay men- not interested in girl parts. So, when he had quietly told her that he loved her for who she was, not because she was, in all actuality, a man with decidedly manly parts, Angel had wept with relief and kept the two of them occupied in the bedroom for several hours afterward.

She smiles to herself- she's wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket on their worn floral couch, a gift from Maureen once she moved in with JoAnne. She's barefaced with no wig but she has a lovely natural flush. It's one of those days again, but she is more than content to stay inside with her lover.

"How are you feeling, Angelcake?" Tom comes from the kitchen, two steaming mugs of coffee in hand. Angel gracefully takes hers and inhales deeply. It's a french vanilla roast with generous amounts of sugar and milk. It smells like paradise, and as she sips it, she thinks it tastes like it, too.

"Better, now that I have coffee and you." She answers coyly, snuggling into him as he settles onto the couch. After several more sips of liquid heaven, she nuzzles into the sweet spot where his ear and jaw meet, nearly causing him to drop his coffee. He takes a small sip and sets the mug down on the end table, before wrapping her in his arms.

"I love you." He whispers into her short, curly hair. As gorgeous as his lover is in drag, Thomas has a special love for Angel as she truly is. He holds her just a tiny bit closer, realizing that this will probably be one of the last times he can hold her as a man. Once the memory is imprinted, he files it in the back of his mind for later.

"I love you too, baby." Angel replies, noting the tiny squeeze Thomas gives her. After several moments of a comfortable silence, she turns to face him and noticing a pensive look on his face. "Thomas? Is everything alright?" She asks softly, tracing the strong line of his jaw with her fingers.

Collins grasps her hand and lightly kisses each individual finger. "I just want to remember you like this forever." He honestly says, now pressing her hand to his cheek. "I know you'll be the most beautiful woman alive, but I think you're the most beautiful man alive right now, too. I can't wait to see you how you're meant to be, my Angel, but I'm going to miss seeing you like this. I know I will." The confession is hard for him. He doesn't want to hurt Angel in any way or make her think he doesn't want her to go through with the surgery, but they don't have secrets from each other. He just wants her to know that he loves her, no matter what.

Angel understands the latter, but cannot help her eyes from becoming glassy. "Thomas," she chokes out, "would you rather I not go through with it?"

"Hell no!" He vehemently replies, taking her coffee from her other hand and setting it next to his on the table. "Hell no, I want you to go through with it! If there is any person who deserves this surgery, baby, it's you. It's just, you're so beautiful like this. The fact that in a month or so, I'm never gonna see you like this again? It's sad."

Angel looks into his warm brown eyes, absolute love and devotion radiating from their depths. She understands, then, what he means. "Thomas Collins," she throatily says, "you are the most perfect man alive." She punctuates this declaration with a searing kiss.

Collins paces nervously in the waiting room. Angel has been in surgery for hours. The hormone therapy is completed, the physical aspect should be completed, and Collins is terrified. Is she okay? How long will she need to take it easy afterwards? How will these new curves fit against his body? He shakes his head at this last thought- Angel is perfect, no matter what, and no new body parts are going to change how much he loves her.

Mimi is sitting nearby, a nervous smile on her face. She knows Angel is going to look gorgeous, but can't help but worry. Hasn't she been in there long enough? Shouldn't she be in recovery by now?

"Thomas Collins? Mimi Marquez?" A tall man in scrubs steps into the waiting room. They quickly acknowledge him. "Miss Schunard is in recovery and would like to see the two of you." He smiles warmly.

"The operation? Is she okay?" Mimi asks before Collins can even process the man's statement.

"The operation was a success. I think you'll find that she's pleased with the results. She's a bit tired, though- she just woke up from the anesthesia ten minutes ago." The doctor leads them back through surgery and into a small, brightly lit white room. Angel is lying in the bed, several IVs hooked up to her arms and several wires run from her chest to machines steadily beeping nearby. She has on minimal make-up; just a little mascara and blush, but she is beautiful. Collins looks at her delicate body in the hospital bed, traveling down the graceful slope of her neck (her Adam's apple had been trimmed down) to the moderate swell of her chest. It suits her beautifully.

"Oh chica!" Mimi whispers, hurrying over to embrace Angel. "You look fabulous, honey. Totally gorgeous." She steps back then, allowing Collins to sit next to his girlfriend on the bed.

"Angelcake..." He murmurs, before kissing her sweetly.

Angel looks at him a tad nervously, his eyes still a little unfocused from the anesthetics. "What do you think, baby?"

"You're perfect." Collins replies, lovingly running his fingers through the curls of her blonde wig. "Absolutely perfect."

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Review!


	3. Nobody Needs to Know

**A/N: **And here is chapter three! Chock-filled with angst. Don't worry, the next couple bits should have more fluff, although it will take me a little longer to get those up than these past few have. Many, MANY thanks to TechnicolorZebra and Katlynn888 for my first reviews! Enjoy, and try not to kill me by the end of this! =D

Disclaimer: Still don't own. I wish...

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iii. Nobody Needs to Know

As Collins slowly wakes up, he feels a pleasant weight on his chest and smiles. He opens his eyes: it is not quite dawn, but a faint pink glow from outside lights his lover and gives her a lovely glow. He can't help but run his fingertips over her impossibly smooth skin. Her dark curls are tickling his nose, but he doesn't mind. Her hair is soft and smells of her sweet-pea shampoo. They haven't been together long, but he knows she's something special. He toys with the silky strap of her negligee that's hanging off of her shoulder. He doesn't want to go back to his apartment, but he knows he has to. He's been gone the entire night.

"Thomas?" Her voice is thick with sleep as she raises her head to gently kiss him. He registers the vague taste of morning breath, but it doesn't matter to him. Who knows when they'll have this much time together again.

"Morning, baby." He says softly, wrapping his arms around her. He holds her close, just breathing in her essence.

"I wish you could stay." She breathes, pressing little kisses against the strong line of his jaw. They stay like this for several moments, the pink cast in the room slowly turning more and more golden. "When are you leaving him?" She asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

Collins sighs. He's been dreading this question for weeks. "Baby," he begins, "it's not that easy. He's dying and he doesn't have anyone left. I'm all he's got." He averts his eyes at his last statement. The guilt has been gnawing at him these past several weeks, but it hasn't stopped him. He wonders why he keeps coming back to her and leaving his lover, alone and sick, in their apartment.

Kathy sighs and sits up, tugging the strap that had fallen off of her shoulder back into place. It seems she has read his mind. "That's all well and good, Thomas, but if you feel so guilty why on Earth are you here with me?"

He doesn't answer her, but kisses her on the forehead as he gets up. The two don't speak as she watches him dress, his chocolate skin bathed in the golden light of morning. As he buttons his shirt, he can't help but feel he's putting on armor to head into battle at home.

He opens the door to find Angel on the couch, out of drag, hand-stitching a vest. He looks up as Collins walks in and weakly smiles. "Where have you been?" He quietly asks. "I was worried when you didn't come home last night."

Collins takes a deep breath, but no words come out. As the silence grows, the smile slowly fades from Angel's face. He coughs, a deep, rasping cough that seems to come from the bottom of his chest. Collins wants to scream. He can't possibly leave Angel, no matter how much he wants to be with Kathy, he can't let Angel die by himself. Collins looks at Angel again, really looks at him. He's pale and gaunt, his once beautiful hands are now frail and shake as they hold his work in his lap. It looks like there are new lesions on his neck and hands and Collins wants to vomit. When did this happen? Has he really been so wrapped up in hiding Kathy from Angel that he stopped paying attention to his male lover completely?

"Thomas?" Angel's voice wavers, and it occurs to Collins that he still hasn't answered him. Oh God, his mouth is so dry.

"I- I..." He sputters for a moment. There is an unfathomable sadness in Angel's eyes, as if he knows what's coming. As if he understands that Collins is here to shatter him and his entire universe into a million tiny little pieces. Collins is nauseous. He's a fucking monster: how can he leave this perfect man to die alone? But he realizes, in his heart of hearts, that he doesn't love him in the same way that he used to. It has to be done. But at what cost?

"Thomas, tell me what's wrong." He can clearly hear the tears in Angel's voice. Angel slowly stands up from the couch, wincing slightly as he braces himself on its arm. Oh God oh God oh god oh god he can't do it, he can't do this. He feels several fat tears running down his face and takes another deep breath to steady himself. This isn't fair to either of them- Angel deserves someone to love him with their whole heart; Collins deserves to be with the person who makes him happy- but since when is anything fair? Since when do people actually get what they deserve? Welcome to modern America, he bitterly thinks. "It's me, isn't it." Angel whispers, staring at the floor.

Collins looks up in horror, seeing his frail lover crying silently. "What? No, baby, it's not you- nothing's wrong with you-" He attempts, rushing over to Angel's side, only to be shoved away as Angel crashes onto the couch.

"Stop it, Thomas." Angel orders, a heavy rasp to his voice. He stares at him, tears shining in his eyes, a clear accusation present in his gaze. "Something's wrong, and it has to do with me. What is it, am I too sick for you now? Can you not handle me dying? Because, like it or not, I'm going to die. Roger and Mimi are going to die. And sooner or later, you're going to die, too. Just because you're not as sick as the rest of us doesn't mean that AIDS isn't going to affect you, Thomas." His voice breaks at the end, and his face is liberally coated with salty tears.

Collins is silent. The room is too bright, he inanely thinks, the air is too thin, the walls are too dingy. Anything to distract him from the verbal onslaught Angel is attacking him with. The worst part is that Angel is right. Kathy may be a very special woman, but Angel is his life. Watching the person he loves most in the world wither away will destroy him, and he refuses to let that happen. It's a self-preservation thing, he thinks, realizing he sounds exactly like Mark.

"Tom." Angel says, staring resolutely at the couch. "Mimi almost died last Christmas. She's getting sicker and sicker; worse than me. She's going to die soon, but Roger isn't going to let her go without a fight. Because he loves her. He loves her too much to let her go, even though he knows she won't be around much longer." He lifts his gaze back to meet Collins', and Collins feels an agonizing pain in his stomach. "I could understand anyone else wanting an out, wanting an escape from this. But not you, Thomas. Not when all of your other friends are in the exact same situation. Not when you yourself are in this exact situation."

A loud sob resonates through the apartment, and as Collins falls to his knees on the ground, he vaguely registers that it is him. He is at Angel's feet, sobbing roughly, his nails creating angry crescents in his palms. "I can't, oh God, I can't do this anymore, Angel. I can't, I'm a monster-" He sobs, resting his forehead on the couch next to Angel's folded legs. He isn't sure if he means the affair with Kathy, his relationship with the other man, his lifestyle in general or all of the above, but he knows that there has to be some kind of change. He feels more than sees Angel stiffen.

"You can't do this anymore." It is a statement, and Angel's weak voice is colder than ice, stabbing through Collins' heart. "You think you can't do this anymore."

"Angel, that's not what I-" He raises his head desperately, but Angel refuses to let him continue.

"How the fuck do you think I feel, Thomas? I can barely walk anymore! I have all the strength of a newborn, I'm dizzy all the time and I ache all over. I vomit up everything that I eat. I'm covered in this fucking ugly lesions all over my body. I can't even go out in drag anymore because I don't have the strength to even put my wig on. I can't even leave to apartment to go to the Life, or the loft or to see Mimi. But I have you, and that makes everything okay. Or at least, I had you." He draws his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them. The look on his face is one of abject misery. Collins continues to sob. He has no idea what to say, because he himself didn't even know what he meant by what he had said. "What happened to us, Thomas?" Angel sighs.

They sit in near silence, the only noise being Collins' quiet sobs. They sit for five, ten, twenty, thirty minutes.

"I met someone." Collins finally says, his voice dead.

Angel starts at the sound of his voices, and as he processes the other man's words, he seems to shrink to half his size. "What's his name?" He asks, faintly.

"Kathy."

Silence again. He dares to look at Angel, whose eyes are faraway and clouded. There are no tears, simply because Angel has run out of tears to cry. He's exhausted.

"She's a co-worker at MIT. She teaches art history." Collins hears himself say and wonders why he's telling Angel this. How cruel can he possibly be? But he keeps talking. "I've known her for several years and she came on to me a couple months ago. I let her and I don't know why. Things happened and-"

"You bastard." Angel whispers and Collins knows he deserves it. If there is anyone who ever deserved that title, it was him. "You motherfucking bastard. A woman? You met a woman, who's probably nice and healthy and will live for another fifty years at least, and now you want to be with her, rather than your dying drag queen lover." Angel says these words with such venom, absolutely dripping with self-hatred, that Collins can't help but flinch. "I don't blame you. I'm disgusting and diseased."

"Don't say that." Collins quietly says, not meeting the other man's eyes. "Don't say that. You are perfect. You're beautiful, inside and out, you're intelligent and funny, and you have more love to give than anyone else I've ever known."

"Then why are you leaving me?" Angel asks in the most broken and pain-filled voice Collins has ever heard in his entire life.

More silence. Collins can't answer the question because he doesn't know the answer. Maybe it is because he doesn't want to watch Angel die. Maybe it's a reminder of his own mortality. Maybe he just fell in love with Kathy, simple as that. Somehow, none of these ideas ring entirely true, so he stays silent.

"I'll be packed and out by tomorrow."

Collins lifts his head, horrified. "What? No, stay here, I'll move out-"

"No. This is your apartment, Thomas. I will not stay here because you feel badly for me."

More silence.

"Where will you go?"

"I don't really see how it's any of your concern anymore." Angel replies coldly, slowly standing up from the couch before walking, with some difficulty, to what was once their shared bedroom and shutting the door.

There is a loud ringing in Collins' ears as his world collapses around him. He turns around and leans against the couch, staring blindly at the bright morning sunshine filtering in through their dirty window. He is a monster. He is absolutely the lowest form of being in existence. He is leaving- has left?- Angel for a woman. He is abandoning Angel to the remainder of his short life, sure to be filled with misery. It occurs to him that he could leave Kathy and stay with Angel; after all, he does love Angel. Not as much as he should, and certainly not in the way that he used to, but love is love, and God knows Angel deserves love. He doesn't move for a long time; he just sits and contemplates the situation. When he finally moves again, his joints are stiff and his feet are instantly filled with the sensation of pins and needles. The sun is higher in the sky; Collins imagines it is around noon by now. He climbs to his feet, ignoring the unpleasant prickling sensations in his legs, and walks to the bedroom. He opens the door, finding Angel crying on the bed. Most of his things have been packed up in ratty luggage.

"Angel?" His voice sounds strange to him, in the unusual silence of their usually boisterous apartment.

He sniffs slightly, refusing to look at Collins. "What do you want?"

"I don't want to leave you." He chokes out, wanting nothing more than to wrap the other man in his arms and hold him. "Please. Stay."

After several uncomfortable moments, Angel finally looks at him. "Tell me you love me." He says in a surprisingly steady voice. "Look me in the eye and tell me you love me more than you love her. That you're willing to stay with me until the end." He takes a deep breath, heartbreakingly somber. "Thomas, I love you. I want you to be happy. I'm not asking you to stay faithful to me after I die, until you die. I just want to be loved until I die. Move on after I've moved on. But if you won't be happy with me, then don't stay out of some warped sense of obligation. I refuse to be the cause of your unhappiness." He slowly walks over to Collins, placing a frighteningly cold hand on his cheek. "Can you tell me you love me and still mean it, Thomas?"

Collins places his hand over Angel's on his cheek and meets his gaze. He wants to tell him that he'll stay and take care of him. He wants to tell him that he's sorry for this entire mess and wants to make it all go away. He wants to tell him that he loves him more than he loves Kathy.

Kathy.

Would she wait for him? He wasn't sure. He wanted to think so, and at any rate, he wouldn't have to wait long to find out. The moment he thinks it, he wants to vomit. How can he even think that with Angel so close to him, pure hope and longing in his clear green eyes.

"I love you." He hears himself tell Angel, placing a small kiss on the other man's palm.

Angel looks at him for a moment, before shaking his head. "You're not mine anymore." He says finally, pulling away. He gathers his few bags and heads to the door before turning to face Collins. "I'll get the rest of my stuff later tonight." He informs him stiffly. They simply stare at each other for a moment, millions of things unspoken hanging in the air. "I love you." He says, staring at the floor.

"I love you too." Collins whispers, not looking at him.

Angel nods, before turning back around and leaving. Collins lets him go. Footsteps. The door opens and slams shut. The sound echoes throughout the apartment. Collins is left alone.

Time goes by. Collins moves out of the apartment and in with Kathy, who is only too happy to have her lover share a bed with her permanently. He finds himself drinking more and more often as he falls out of contact with his old friends. Mark and Mimi refuse to speak to him now, he can only assume that Angel is staying with Mimi. Roger calls occasionally, but is often distant and never talks for too long. Maureen spends more time with him than the others do, but it is obvious behind her fun-loving and wild front that she is angry with him for what he's done. He does nothing to change any of their behavior. He knows he deserves it. He spends more time at school, throwing himself wholeheartedly into his work.

Fall turns to winter. Gradually, all contact with the Bohemians slows to a stop. Maureen hasn't called in weeks, and he can't even remember the last time he spoke with Roger. Kathy is hinting at marriage and adoption, but Collins can't even think about marriage yet. He thinks about Angel about constantly. He is going through a bottle of Stoli a day, at least. Kathy doesn't seem to notice. He doesn't know whether or not this concerns him.

One dark and windy day in late November, the phone rings. A chill goes down his spine as he reaches for the receiver. "Tom Collins."

"Collins?" It's Mark's voice and Collins instinctively knows what's coming.

"Mark. What's up, man?" He manages to sound almost casual, but he's terrified. Please, please... please.

"She's dead, Collins."

Collins drops the phone. It hits him: he has made a huge mistake.

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Review please!


	4. Wonderchild

**A/N**: Fluffy, fluffy and just a tiny hint at smut. Cameo by Joanne! Enjoy, the next segment will be up as soon as it's written.

Disclaimer: Don't own; I rent! /bad pun.

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iv. Wonderchild

"Thomas, do you have the car seat?" Angel anxiously asks, checking for the tenth time in five minutes that they have all of the proper paperwork and documentation. When she is satisfied that everything is in order, she carefully places all of the paperwork in a folder and tucks it into her purse. She glances at herself in the mirror quickly, making sure her make-up was alright. At thirty-three, Angel still looks young for her age, the angles and planes of her face delicate and feminine. There are the barest hints of crinkles near the corners of her eyes, but she is in the process of finding a good eye cream.

"Yeah, Angelcake." Thomas calls to her as he walks back inside. She turns to her lover and smiles. He is ridiculously handsome, she muses. He is almost forty-three, but doesn't look a day over thirty. It's a pity that they can't have their own children- they're each genetic goldmines! "I just put it in the car." He smiles widely and embraces her. "I can't believe it's finally happening, you know?"

She squeals and kisses him soundly on the mouth, relishing the feel of his stubble against her smoothly shaven face. "After six years, I'd say it's about time!" She giggles, wiping away the tiny bit of lipstick that escaped from her lips to the corner of Collins' mouth. "Do you have the travel case for her insulin and syringes?"

He reaches into a bag on the counter and pulls out a small black bag. "Don't worry, Ange." He tells her with a tender smile. "We got this, baby girl. She's coming home today." As he says it, it really seems to hit him. They get to bring home their adopted daughter today, after an agonizingly long six year process. They have been together for ten years, and they began talking about adoption seven years ago. Money had been a major problem for them for a year or so, until Angel's boutique with her handmade clothes and accessories really took off. She made good money now and had Maureen and Mimi working in the shop more often than now. Her income, combined with Collins' pay from NYU, had finally enabled them to seriously consider adoption. Once they had passed all of the preliminary processes (paperwork, paperwork and several home visits to determine that they were fit parents), they had been matched up with (then) three-year-old Leah. Leah is a quiet little redheaded girl, pale skin dusted with freckles and deep brown eyes, who was abandoned by her mother after birth. Leah is a type one diabetic who is deaf in one ear, which had made her undesirable to other parents, but immediately endeared her to Collins and Angel. The first time they met Leah, she was painfully shy and refused to make eye contact, but the couple was determined. After several visits, she had warmed up enough to talk to them in short sentences, and by the fifth visit, Leah loved Angel and Collins as much as they loved her.

"Knock knock!" Joanne's voice resonates from right outside the doorway as she steps into view. "Hello, lovebirds!" She cheerfully says, her low heels clicking on the hardwood floors as she crosses to the couple, giving them each a kiss on the cheek. She is dressed smartly in a black blazer, white blouse underneath, and tailored black pants. The couple greets her warmly. "Are you ready to pick up Leah?" Joanne is coming with to make sure everything is in order and that everything transitions smoothly.

Angel and Collins look at each other and laugh. "Jo, honey, we've been ready for three years." Angel says after a moment. She's positively beaming with happiness. "Is everything in order at the shop?"

"Maureen and Mimi have everything under control and can't wait to meet their new little niece." She informs her, checking her watch. "We'd better get going if we want to beat traffic."

"Hold on!" Collins says quickly, grabbing something from the bottom drawer of his desk. "I got something for Leah, for a welcome home present..." He proudly holds up some sort of stuffed animal. It's soft and fuzzy-looking, but the animal in question...

"Thomas, what the HELL is that?" Angel asks, bursting into laughter.

"It's... it's a stuffed wombat." He says, deflating slightly. "It's cute, okay? I thought little girls LIKED stuffed animals." He examines the stuffed wombat. It's got a squished in face and a prominent nose and Collins thinks it's adorable. It's just the sort of thing he would have liked as a kid.

"Oh, they do, honey. They just like cats, rabbits, bears... you know. Some sort of easily identifiable animal. Not some malformed lump of faux fur." Joanne replied, stifling her laughter.

Collins frowns. "But those are so... generic. Our little girl deserves something special and unique, not some run-of-the-mill kitty cat doll!"

"Honey. She's going to have a drag queen mother and a gay anarchist father. I think she'll be special and unique enough as it is." Angel tells him, kissing him lightly on the cheek. She takes the wombat from him and looks at it. "I guess it's sort of cute..."

"Damn right it's cute, it's a wombat!" Collins proclaims, taking the doll back and tucking it underneath his arm. "I think she'll love it." He says with a smile, turning his attention back to Joanne and Angel. "Well, if you ladies are ready, let's go get our girl!"

When everything is signed and filed away, Leah is brought out to Angel and Collins. Joanne watches nearby with a smile. Leah's red hair is in two braids, tied with blue bows at the ends. She's wearing a pink t-shirt with embroidered flowers and jeans, worn white sneakers on her feet. When she sees Angel and Collins, she lights up like the sun and runs to them, hugging their legs. "Mama Angel! Papa Collins!" She squeals. Her consonants are thick and hard to understand, her 'l's and 'r's more like 'w's, but to the couple, she's perfect. Collins lifts the little girl up and holds her tightly. Angel joins in the group hug, and Joanne, watching the tableau, can't help but be a little teary.

"Hey there, baby girl." Collins says, a little more slowly than usual, pulling Leah far away enough to read his lips. "Are you excited to come home with us?" The little girl's vigorous nodding causes her braids to flutter about wildly, nearly hitting Angel in the face, but she doesn't care.

"Collins has a present for you, sweetheart." Angel says with a smile, holding out her arms to take Leah. Collins shifts Leah over to her before going over to Joanne and pulling the stuffed wombat out of Angel's purse. He returns, the animal hidden behind his back. Leah is bouncing happily in Angel's arms. She has never been this happy in her short life.

"Can I see it? Can I see it?" She chatters, all smiles and love.

Collins' smile gets a tiny bit bigger as he brings the toy wombat out from behind his back. It's fur has gotten slightly rumpled from Angel's purse, and Angel has to actively struggle not to laugh at how tragic the thing looks.

Leah's eyes go wide. "Is that... for me?" She asks Angel quietly. At Angel's reassuring nod, she asks Collins, "Do I get to keep it?"

Collins laughs and hands her the wombat. "Yes, baby. I got it just for you!"'

Leah squeezes it tightly. "This is the best day ever!" She declares. "I have a mommy and a daddy and a house and a new dolly!" She buries her nose in the wombat's fur.

"What are you gonna name it, Leah?" Angel asks, overcome with love for this little girl.

"Mr. Bear." The little girl responds almost immediately.

"Bear?" Collins asks.

"Well, he's a bear, Papa Collins." Leah tells him with a smile. "What else could I call him?"

"Yes, Collins," Angel giggles, "he is a bear, right?"

Collins grumbles something, but he's smiling. "Hey, at least she likes it, right? I told you- all kids love wombats." He looks at his adopted daughter with a goofy grin. "Leah, are you ready to go home?"

"Yeah!" She shouts as Angel sets her down. Collins grabs her bag of possessions along with Angel's purse as Joanne fishes the car keys out of her briefcase. Leah stuffs one thumb in her mouth, Mr Bear draped over that arm, and holds Angel's hand with her free hand.

"You remember Auntie Jo, right Leah?" Angel asks as they head out to the parking lot. Leah looks at Joanne, who turns and gives her a soft smile. Leah nods, shyly smiling. "She's gonna come home with us for a little bit, okay?" Leah nods again, avidly sucking her thumb.

They pile into Collins' car, Joanne sitting in the front and Angel in back with Leah and get as comfortable as they can for the hour-and-a-half ride home. "Are you hungry, Leah?" Collins asks as he pulls onto the freeway. "We can stop and get some food, or we can cook at home."

"We could even go to the Life, for old times' sake. Introduce your daughter properly to your friends." Joanne suggests.

"What do you say, Leah?" Collins glances at his little girl in the rearview mirror. She looks at him and shakes her head slowly, turning her attention to Mr. Bear.

"Thomas, why don't we eat in tonight and introduce her to everyone tomorrow? This is a big day for our family." Angel says, a dreamy smile coming over her face at her last thought. "Our family. We finally have a real family." She feels like a hole in her heart has finally been filled by this adorable little girl. "What do you want for dinner, honey?" She asks her daughter.

Leah is silent a moment before turning to Angel and simply saying, "Waffles, please."

Collins bursts into laughter. "That's my girl! Breakfast for dinner is the way to go! Eggs, tofu bacon and orange juice, too?" He is practically glowing with pride. Sure, they may not have conceived her, but the feeling that she is theirs is already there.

"What's to-fu?" Leah asks Angel, who wrinkles her nose.

"It's a substitute for meat. Tell you what, you and me will have real bacon, okay sweetheart?"

Leah seems to accept this and happily resumes playing with Mr. Bear.

When they get home, they have their waffle dinner after showing Leah around her new home. Before dinner begins, Angel checks Leah's blood sugar before giving her the appropriate amount of insulin. She's impressed by the fact that Leah does not flinch or cry at the finger prick or at the injection. After she's all ready to eat, they rejoin Collins and Joanne at the dinner table, ready for a delicious dinner. Joanne says goodbye right after eating and promises to bring the gang around tomorrow. She is particularly enthralled with her room- the walls are a light purple, the carpet a deeper purple, and she has a beautiful canopy bed right next to a window overlooking the street. There is a closet, filled with pretty tops, skirts, dresses and pants, most of which were made by Angel, which Leah adores. She wraps both of her parents in massive hugs, before changing into pajamas and climbing into bed with Mr. Bear. Angel and Collins tuck her in, both kissing her goodnight, before turning her nightlight on and turning off the ceiling light.

As soon as the door is shut, Angel throws herself into Collins' arms. "She's here! She's finally here and she loves us and she loves it here!" He spins her around the room as she squeals in delight, before the two end up on the couch in the living room.

Collins buries his face in her neck, covering her with kisses. "I know, Angelcake! She's amazing; the gang is going to love her!" He pulls back for a moment, a strange gleam in his eye. "You're a mom now."

"Yes, baby. I'm aware." She replies, mildly confused.

"Do you know what that means?" He growls, a predatory smile comes across his face. At Angel's bewildered silence, he continues. "That makes you... a MILF."

Angel sputters into hysterical laughter, doubling over and clutching her stomach. "Oh... oh God, honey. I'm sorry, it's just... do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?"

Collins blushes madly. "Yes, but... it's true!" He cries defensively. "You look even sexier than usual with that... maternal glow." As Angel laughs even harder, he begins to laugh, too. "I didn't mean it like _that_! I just... fuck it. I just wanna have sex, okay?"

Angel's laughter dies down as she straightens back up. "Oh you do, do you?" She asks in a low voice; Collins feels delicious shivers flowing up and down his spine. "I suppose," she begins, kissing right underneath Collins' ear and making her way down his jaw, "that could be arranged." She is at his neck now, and nips gently at his Adam's apple, immediately flicking her tongue over where she bit him. Collins groans loudly, wrapping his arms around her small waist. "I have a surprise for you." She says huskily, pulling away after a moment.

Collins grins devilishly. "Is it what I think it is?"

She simply smiles and stands, before bending over and unclipping her stockings. They fall to the floor at her feet. She then turns around, facing away from him, and slowly, oh so torturously, unzips her skirt. It flutters to the ground; a puddle of delicate lavender frills. Collins lets his eyes travel up her defined calves to her shapely thighs before- he inhales sharply. She's wearing his absolute favorite underwear: a simple lacy purple thong. "Oh God, Angel..." He breathes, his breath catching in his throat as she tugs her top off, standing before him in nothing but her panties. "You are so fucking gorgeous." He tells her as she walks back over to the couch and straddles him. He cups her cheek and stares into her eyes for a moment before kissing her. The kiss quickly become heated, and his hands move down to cup her ass as she begins to unbutton his shirt. Things become more intense, until-

"Mama Angel? Papa Collins?" A tiny voice calls from the hallway.

The couple immediately jump apart, Angel quickly yanking her top and skirt back on, leaving the stocking on the floor and Collins rebuttoning his shirt. He is ready first, as his pants are baggier and he can conceal anything that, ahem, protrudes better. They exchange a look, both understanding that they will finish this later. Collins enters the hallway and sees Leah. She is standing in the doorway of her bedroom, wearing a pretty pink nightgown and clutching Mr. Bear. "I'm thirsty." She whispers as he comes into view.

"That's okay, baby girl. What are you thirsty for? Water, milk, juice?" He asks as he scoops his little girl up into his arms and carries her into the kitchen. He pointedly avoids looking in the living room, knowing that the sight of Angel in whatever state of undress she is in will only complicate matters for him.

"Um... milk, please." She answers as he sets her in a chair at the kitchen table. He heads to the fridge, grabs the milk and grabs a little glass out of the cabinet. He pours her a small amount and hands her the cup. "Thank you, Daddy Collins."

"Leah," Collins says as he sits at the table with her, "Angel and I love you very much. You've made us very happy by coming home with us, and we want you to know, if you'd like, whenever you're comfortable, you can just call us Mommy and Daddy." He says this last part rather anxiously. What if she'd rather not? She'd only just come home with them, despite having seen them once a week for the past three years. What if she wasn't ready?

Angel steps into the kitchen, once again fully dressed. "In your own time, sugar." She says, walking to Leah and kissing her on the top of the head. "We're not trying to rush you, we just want you to be comfortable with us. This is your home and we're your family. We love you very much." Collins shoots a grateful glance at his lover who returns the smile.

"Okay, Mommy. Okay, Daddy." She says with a smile, and the couple looks ready to cry. Their unconventional little family is complete.

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Review please!


	5. Through the Looking Glass

**A/N- **Well, I'm back, after a brief battle with writer's block and an ongoing battle with food poisoning, which is no fun. =( However, I think this chapter turned about pretty well. There will have to be a suspension of disbelief (more than usual) regarding the first part of Angel's present. I don't know if 'La Boheme' was playing at the Met in '92, but I certainly know that the cast I have in mind (some of who are mentioned) were NOT in it. =D

I just wanted to thank everyone for their reviews, which I greatly appreciate, but I've had nearly 200 hits on this story, and only seven reviews. I would greatly appreciate it if more people took the time to give me some feedback about what they liked, didn't like, want to see more of, etc. But I'm thrilled that this has gotten such a positive response so far! Enjoy chapter five- two more to go, and the next one will probably be a return to angst.

Disclaimer- I own nothing.

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v. Through the Looking-Glass

Collins rushes off the bus, nearly bowling over a gaggle of old women in his haste to return home. He immediately apologizes and makes sure they're not hurt, before jogging the remaining four blocks home. It is early spring in New York: the air is just barely warm, and the breeze has a cold bite to it. As he jogs, he readjusts the scarf Angel made him for Christmas. His girl can do absolutely anything when it comes to clothing or accessories, he muses, absently fingering the expertly knit yarn. It's heather grey, with blue and green stripes on either end of it. Collins loves it; it's probably his favorite Christmas gift. He stomps up the stairs to their apartment and swings the door open. "Angelcake, I'm home!" He calls as he drops his backpack to the ground, several papers fluttering out, but he doesn't care.

"In the kitchen, honey!" Angel's voice calls back, causing a goofy grin to spread out on Collins' face. He walks into the kitchen to find Angel frosting a three layer red velvet cake. He groans.

"Baby, I'm taking you out tonight. You didn't have to bake your own cake!" He tells her, pressing a kiss to her hair. She's out of drag at the moment, covered in flour, frosting and what may or may not be egg in her hair, but Collins thinks she's just as gorgeous right now. He spins her around and pulls her to him, mere centimeters separating them. "Happy birthday." He rumbles, pulling her in for a deep kiss. She squeals and immediately melts into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck as he backs her up against the counter. He vaguely registers flour sprinkling onto his neck, but he is too absorbed in the sweet taste of Angel's mouth (and the hint of buttercream frosting on her lips) to pay much attention to little things like that.

"Wait, wait." Angel manages to mumble into Collins' mouth, pushing him away lightly. "Let me finish frosting it!" She giggles, turning back around to perfect her masterpiece. Collins heaves an overdramatic sigh and sits at the kitchen table. As she puts elaborate swirls on the sides of the cake, she asks, "Do I get to find out yet what we're doing tonight?"

"We-ell..." He draws the word out, causing her to turn around with a pout. He laughs at her, raising his hands in the air. "That's not fair- you know I can't resist that pout!" He exclaims.

"I know you can't, baby. Now tell me!" She demands with a grin.

He pretends to contemplate this for a moment, but before she can pout again, he smiles. "We're going to that nice Thai place Maureen told us about the other night for dinner, and then... I got us tickets to the opera."

Angel's face lights up with every word that comes out of his mouth, but when he says, "opera", she looks ready to explode from sheer happiness. "Oh my God, oh my GOD! What are we seeing? What row are we in? How on Earth did you afford this?" Her words pour out, but he is thrilled that she likes her presents (thus far) so much.

"Well, I looked at everything that's on Broadway, and it all sounded like garbage." Angel giggles at this. "So, I remembered that one of my coworkers at NYU in the music department has a sister on the board of directors at the Met. I asked her what was playing, and when she told me, I hacked into their network's ticket sales system and got my girl the best seats for tonight. We're sitting third row center... for 'La Boheme'."

Angel's jaw drops. 'La Boheme' is one of her favorite operas, second only to 'Turandot'. "You got us tickets for 'La Boheme'?" She whispers, the icing falling forgotten to the ground.

"Yeah, baby, I did!" He beams. "I knew you loved it, so you had to have it. Only the best for my girl." He stands and picks up the frosting before walking to her and giving her a sweet kiss. "Do you want your present now or later?" He asks her, cupping her face in his large hands.

She stares at him for a moment, utterly shocked. "Present? Isn't dinner and 'La Boheme' my present?" She asks softly, eyes shining.

He just smiles and pulls a flat, small, simply wrapped box out of his pocket. "Open it up."

She takes it slowly, carefully tearing the paper off and opens the box. She gasps: a pearl necklace with a matching bracelet and earrings lay inside. A slip of paper, containing information about the jewelry, flutters to the floor, but the couple doesn't notice. She delicately runs a finger over the pearls; they're smooth and cool to the touch. "Collins, how on Earth-"

"I've been saving up." He replies softly. "May I?" He asks with a teasing smile, taking the box from her and removing the necklace. She turns around, and he can't help but admire the beauty of her long and slender neck. He slides the pearl strand around it and fastens it. When she turns back around, her eyes are glistening with tears. "You look amazing, baby. Every queen deserves pearls."

She bursts out laughing at this. "Good Lord, Thomas. We were having such a beautiful moment, and then you ruin it with a cheesy line!"

He can't help it- he bursts into laughter, too. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just couldn't resist!"

She sticks her tongue out at him good-naturedly, before looking at her reflection in the microwave glass. The grin returns to her face, and she touches the pearls that lay across her clavicle with something akin to wonder. "You are an amazing man, Thomas Collins." She tells him as she turns back around to face him. She leans in to kiss him, but before she does- she swipes a blob of frosting across his nose. As he laughs, she growls, "Come here!" and pulls him to her. The frosting is soon forgotten.

The Met is easily one of the most beautiful places Angel or Collins has ever been. Dinner was delicious, and Angel cannot wait for the opera to start. She is wearing a white dress with a fitted bodice and flowing skirt that hits just below her knees with white pumps and a blonde wig in a simple updo. She is proudly wearing her pearl set from Collins, whose hand she squeezes every couple of minutes. Collins looks incredibly handsome in the suit he's worn all of three times: his father's funeral, his job interview for NYU and his sister's wedding. Angel muses that he should wear suits more often. The lights dim, the announcements are made, and the opera begins. Angel is immediately entranced by the music and story, but it takes Collins slightly longer to get into it. Until Colline and Schaunard enter. Angel visibly flinches and immediately looks at Collins.

"Am I crazy?" She hisses quietly, indicating the stage. "Am I hallucinating this?"

Collins stares at the two actors for several moments, before looking back at his lover. "No, baby, I see the exact same thing. What the Hell?!" He whispers in reply before snatching his program and trying desperately to read it through the minimal light.

They are understandably confused and upset- the actors playing Colline and Schaunard, respectively, could have been twins with Collins and Angel. Colline is a tall black man with dreadlocks; his face is shaped the same as Collins', his facial features are the same, hell! Even his facial hair is growing in the same pattern that Collins grows his. Schaunard is a Latino man of medium height with an uncommonly pretty face that bears an uncanny resemblance to Angel. Their build is the same and their smiles even seem to be the same.

"Their names are... Jesse something and... Wilson?" Collins mumbles to Angel. "Never heard of them, but this is some freaky shit."

Someone behind them shushes them and Angel winces. "Let's just... get through the opera, okay, baby?"

The couple tries to sit back and enjoy the show. Angel is quickly wrapped up in the romance between Mimi and Rodolfo, but Collins finds it harder to get back into the opera when his doppelganger is onstage singing. The man has a nice voice, he thinks; it's deep and resonates wildly. Collins takes comfort in this; he can't sing to save his life, so at least there is some difference between him and this Jesse person. He takes a deep breath and settles back. It takes awhile, but eventually, he is drawn into the world of 'La Boheme'. Eventually, intermission comes, and the couple applauds loudly for the company. They remain in their seats, simply holding hands, until the majority of the audience has cleared the aisles.

"So, what do you think?" Collins asks in a low tone, rubbing his thumb over her hand.

"I love it!" Angel replies delightedly. "I've never gotten to see it live, and this cast is just amazing! The set is gorgeous, the costumes are fabulous- it's everything I hoped it would be. Darling, you're wonderful." She punctuates this statement with a firm kiss.

Collins laughs slightly, grabbing her when she tries to pull away and deepening the kiss. She squeals lightly and returns it. When they finally pull apart, Collins tells her, "That's great, baby. I'm glad you like it, but I meant what do you think of our look-a-likes?"

Her face falls slightly. "I haven't really thought about it." She tells him honestly. "It's so strange, though. Colline looks almost exactly like you."

"Almost? What's different?" He asks, eager to find another difference that will set him apart from his doppelganger.

"Your nose is slightly bigger." She teases as she taps the aforementioned part with her finger. Before he can respond and possibly retaliate, she stands, purse in hand. "I'm getting gummi bears and a sparkling water. Want anything?"

He shakes his head but stands as well. "No, but I'll go with you." He holds out his arm in a ridiculously formal gesture. "Milady?"

She takes it graciously. "Good sir." The couple heads off to find refreshments. As they enter the lobby, however, they begin to receive strange looks from other audience members and the ushers. One of the ushers rushes forward.

"Sir, are you Mr. Martin's brother?" He asks in a rushed whisper.

"Who?" Collins asks blankly.

"Jesse L. Martin? Colline? You must be related." The usher tells him with a strange look.

"Nope, it's just a freaky coincidence." Collins mumbles, tugging Angel with him towards the concessions stand. "What the Hell is going on?" He asks her once they're in line.

"This is really, really strange." Angel agrees, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "At least I don't look as much like Schaunard as I could." She giggles, indicating her dress and wig. "I doubt he parades around in make-up and heels outside of the show."

"True that." Collins replies almost absently as they reach the front of the line. He scans the menu for Stoli, until-

"Oh, Mr. Martin!" The employee behind the counter exclaims. "We didn't know you were coming tonight. Your brother left you comps for another night. No matter," she cheerfully carries on before Collins can protest, "we'll comp your beverages and snacks tonight." She informs him with a smile.

Collins and Angel exchange a short look. It's weird, but who are they to refuse free food? "Uh... thanks. I'll have a Stoli on the rocks, and she'll have gummi bears with a sparkling water." The employee quickly hands Angel the candy and bottled water and pours Collins his drink. The couple mill about the lobby for several moments, ignoring the stares and whispers, just enjoying each other and the theater's beauty. Eventually, the lights go down and immediately raise, signaling that the opera is about to continue. Angel and Collins finish their drinks and snacks and return to the theater. Thankfully, it is easier to get into the story this time, and before they know it, the cast is taking their curtain calls. Angel and Collins rise to give the stellar cast a standing ovation and Collins notices that Angel's eyes are filled with tears.

"Everything okay, baby?" He asks her as the cast takes a company bow.

"Mimi's death always gets me." She replies with a light sniffle. Collins gently smiles at her and wipes away a tear with his thumb. "Thank you so much, baby. This was amazing." She tells him. The cast leaves the stage and the lights come up. They grab their things and make to leave before being stopped by the usher from before. "Mr. Martin, your brother would like you to come backstage."

"Look, I'm not related to this guy. I know we look the same, but we're not related. At all. I promise." Collins is growing irritated now, he still has one last thing planned for Angel, and these people who think he's related to some opera guy are messing things up.

The usher just blinks at him slowly. Collins rolls his eyes and leads Angel out of the theater.

Angel relaxes against Collins' chest. They are in Central Park, sitting on Collins' coat, drinking cheap champagne and eating knock-off Twinkies from the box. The night is clear, they can almost make out the stars past the thick city smog. It's slightly cool, but it doesn't bother the couple. They have each other- and the booze- to stay warm. They are silent for a while, simply enjoying the warmth of the other's presence. Before too long, Angel turns around and softly kisses Collins. This kiss gradually becomes more passionate as his hands travel to her waist and ass, her hands pressing firmly on his muscular chest. His hands slide lower and lower until they rest on her thighs, and Collins marvels at the smoothness of her skin. He pulls away from her and presses several kisses to her neck and collarbone.

"...was sure I saw him there, but the ushers said he ran off!" A deep male voice comes from somewhere in the distance. Collins and Angel freeze for a moment, before she scrambles off of his lap.

"Are you sure you saw him there, honey? God knows we can barely see into the audience with how bright those lights are." Another male voice says, this one pitched considerably higher than the other. Collins and Angel look at each other. There is no way in Hell...

And sure enough, the actors who had played Schaunard and Colline are walking into their clearing, holding hands. Angel bites back a giggle. Doppelgangers indeed.

"I'm positive it was Brian, and the ushers said it was him! He was there with some blonde chick; I guess he finally dumped Chrissie. It's about time, she was a raging bitch." Colline laughs, pulling the other man close to him. "I'm glad we're doing this." He tells him, his voice soft and low, and Collins is now uncomfortably aware of how similar he is to this man. Sure, this guy may be more cultured and may be able to sing without upsetting the neighborhood cats, but their physicality and mannerisms are virtually identical.

"Me too, Jesse." The other man replies, the moonlight playing across the planes of his face. He leans in for a kiss, and the other couple looks away. They don't want to intrude on the intimacy of the actors. With a shared look, they quietly pack up their things and slink away into the shadows.

Later, as the two are cuddling in bed after several love-making sessions, Collins beams at his gorgeous lover. "Did you have a good birthday, Angelcake?" He asks her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"The best I've ever had." She sleepily responds, lifting her head from his bare chest for a real kiss. "Doppelgangers and awkward encounters with them aside, this was one of the best days of my life." She snuggles back onto his chest, drifting into a peaceful sleep.

Collins is awake a little longer, puzzling over the day's strange happenings. Whoever those men were, he hopes they're very happy together.

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If you want to see the pearl set Collins gave Angel, go to www(dot)helzbergdiamonds(dot)com and search for the "Freshwater Pearls boxed set".

Please review!


	6. Arroz con leche

**A/N**: Wow. This turned out NOTHING like I expected! I've spent the weekend in the hospital (where I still am, thank God for sweet boyfriends and free WiFi!), thanks to fun with diabetes, but part of this actually inspired this. This was originally supposed to be what would have happened if Angel had never rescued Collins, cue angst, blah blah blah. And then tonight, in the hallway of the hospital, there was a volunteer harpist playing the most gorgeous music. Sitting next to me was an older man who was an absolute peach who looked incredibly sick. We talked a little bit before he had to go back inside to his room. So, it was then going to be a piece of Christmas-y fluff. And then I started writing it and it mutated into... this. I'm running on no sleep and I'm in a hospital, so forgive any silly mistakes. Just let me know, and I'll fix them asap. I'm aware this is sort of drabble-y, but it adds to the charm, right?

Review, please? Pretty please with Collins/Angel smut on top?

Who knows, maybe you'll get some in the last chapter!

(Oh my God, this is almost over! That's CRAZY.)

Enjoy!

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_vi. Arroz con leche_

"Chestnuts roasting-"

"Collins-!"

"I'm downstairs."

"Hey!"

"Roger picked up the phone?"

"No, it's me."

"Throw down the key."

"A wild night is now preordained..."

Collins makes a noise that's somewhere between a grunt and a snort. It's not a grunt, because that would take too much effort from his bruised abdomen. It's not a snort, either, because he's almost positive his nose is broken. He touches it again lightly, pulling his hand away. It's liberally coated in sticky red liquid. He grimaces. "Eugh..." He grunt/snorts again, stumbling forward. He immediately loses his footing and face plants even further in the dark alleyway. It hurts a bit, he registers vaguely, but the ice feels nice on his face and stomach. "Maybe... I'll just lie down for a bit..." He mumbles, drifting into warm, welcoming blackness.

Angel taps out a mildly complicated rhythm on his pickle tub. It's getting late, which means it's getting colder, so he'll have to pack it in soon. A passing woman in trashy stilettos floats down a five dollar bill next to him. "Merry Christmas!" He calls after her, tucking the bill inside his jacket with a smile. The holiday season can turn a lot of people into assholes, but at least it brings out the human decency in some, he muses. He's made good money tonight, all things considered. He scoops up his collection of bills and coins, tucking them into his wallet.

"Angel? Angel, baby, is that you?" A shrill voice calls from down the street. He turns, tucking his pickle tub under his arm, a smile spreading across his face. A blur of blonde hair and red lipstick runs down the street toward him before enveloping him in faux-fur covered arms.

"Elee, chica, is it you?" He asks her, returning her hug, before pulling away and examining her. Her crimped blonde hair is as big as ever, her bright red lips a glaring contrast against the pallor of her skin. The cheaply made coat hangs on her far-too-thin frame. Upon closer inspection, she has scratches on her face. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

"Of course, baby! I'm great! But look at you- sweetie, you look amazing! Come on, let's get some drinks, my treat!" Her smile is too big, but Angel figures he can get it out of her before the night is over. The two start to head down the street, but there is a loud crash from the alley where Angel had been playing. He stops and begins to turn. "Girlfriend, are you crazy?! That is a dark alleyway, in the middle of the East Village at night. Um, are you trying to get raped, mugged and murdered?"

"But El, what is someone's hurt back there? We can't just go without checking." Angel protested, passing the pickle tub off to her. "Just give me a sec."

"Ange, come on, this really makes me nervous. Let's just go!" Elee pleaded.

Angel sighed and reluctantly walked back over to his friend. "Fine, fine. Let's go." The pair walked off together, Angel tossing one last concerned look over his shoulder.

Time passes. Mark eventually comes down from the loft and finds Collins in the snow. He and Roger manage to get him to a hospital. He is treated and released, before moving back in with Mark and Roger. Roger begins dating a stripper/addict from downstairs named Mimi. Collins begins offering philosophy lectures at a bookstore nearby. Mark films life. All is right with the world.

August. Mimi is getting sicker by the day. She's practically wasting away before their eyes, and as she goes, so does Roger's muse. He sits with her, strumming mindlessly on his guitar in an effort to find a song solely for her. Thus far, he has been wholly unsuccessful. Mark has taken the job with Buzzline, taking him out the apartment for good chunks of time, but it's obvious that he's unhappy. Collins is starting to get sicker, too. The dirty air mixed with the heat of New York in the summer is wearing him down, slowly but surely.

One morning, Collins can't even get out of bed. His chest is congested, his head is pounding and he can't stand without help. Waves of nausea repeatedly wash over him, and he's positive that if there was something in his stomach to come up, it would. He's drenched in cold sweat. Mark calls Joanne and they take him to the hospital. After he's admitted, the family of sorts sits around his bed, talking and laughing and holding each other. They know Collins isn't going anywhere yet, but it's still a reminder of how fragile all of their lives are. Mark pulls out his camera and quietly films the scene. He wants them to remember each other like this- happy, smiling and generally healthy. He knows he will waste canisters and canisters of film during each of his friends' respective deaths, and he knows he will never be able to look at them. He might as well get the valuable footage now.

Slowly but surely, though, his friends leave and he's left alone in his room with bad lighting, an uncomfortable bed and several obnoxiously beeping machines. He manages stumble the three feet from the bed to the window, pulling his IV pole along for the ride and sits on the ledge, staring down at the bustling city. Even at night, the city is light and glaring and full of life. He sits at the window silently, just watching, before the quiet strains of harp music float into his room. He turns around, mildly confused.

"Mr. Collins?" A nurse pokes her head in.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to come sit in the hallway and listen to the music?"

Collins raises an eyebrow. Music in the hallway this late at night? Hell, he's not gonna complain. Anything is better than the constant beeping of machines and chattering of the nurses. Don't get even get him started on the guy wheezing in the room next door. The nurse helps Collins into the hallway, IV pole and all, and gets him situated in a chair. There is an older woman seated at a large harp off to one side of the hallway. Her fingers deftly pluck at the strings, a song Collins remembers once from long ago, when he used to go to church. Her face is old, lined with age spots and wrinkles, but she is radiant, a beautiful smile on her face as she creates music. All activity in the hallway has stopped to listen to her music. Several other patients are out of their rooms, listening to the music, but one in particular catches his eye. There is a tall, almost gaunt man, sitting in a wheelchair in the hallway. He has a very feminine face, with large brown eyes that are slightly sunken in, but they are beautiful. Warm hazelnut, slightly almond-shaped. He manages to tear his gaze away from the other man's eyes to finish looking at him. He has a pale blue beanie on his head. His skin is pallid and his hospital gown and pants are practically falling off of him, but he has a faint, beautiful smile on his face. Collins is again drawn to his eyes. He gazes at the harp player, seemingly at peace with life as long as her fingers continue plucking the harp's strings. A deep, raspy cough wracks through the young man's body, cutting through the music. Collins winces, he sounds terrible. The song ends, and suddenly, those eyes are on him and Collins can't move, can't even finish applauding the harpist. The other man wheels over next to Collins.

"Have you heard her play before?" He asks as the woman starts a new song. It's yet another song Collins once knew but doesn't know now.

"No, it's, uh..." He laughs a little bit. "It's been a while since I've been here, you know?"

"Oh." The other man nods knowingly, watching the older woman. "She's fantastic. She volunteers here a couple times a week and everybody just loves her. She's an absolute dear." He turns to Collins again. "So, what are you in for?"

"I've got AIDS." The simple way Collins says it surprises even himself. "I think I caught a cold or something, so... here I am. What about you?"

The other man regards him silently for a moment, before smiling that same beautiful smile. "Me too. AIDS... the big scary boogeyman, coming to get me." He laughs, but it isn't sad or ironic. Just simple laughter. Collins likes that. The other man shakes his head. "I can't believe myself. We're been sitting here talking like this, and you don't even know my name. I'm so sorry, honey; I'm Angel." He extends his hand, smooth and delicate.

Collins laughs a little and shakes it gently. "It's alright; I'm Tom Collins, because my mother had a terrible sense of humor. Just call me Collins."

"Collins..." Angel says, trying it out on her tongue. "It suits you." He decides, cocking his head to the side. Collins likes the way his name sounds on Angel's lips. It sounds... exotic.

"How long have you been here?" Collins asks.

"Four days. I'll probably finish the week here before they send me home. You?"

"Got here today, but they said maybe tomorrow or the day after." He takes another good look at Angel. "Are you here a lot?"

Angel sighs, looking at his hands. "More often than not, recently." He admits with a small smile. "My body isn't really a fan of this New York weather. Bad for my complexion."

Collins laughs. "Boy, do I know what you mean. If I had the money, I would book a ticket to Santa Fe in a heartbeat." He says with a faint smile. At Angel's questioning look, he elaborates, "I have family in Santa Fe, and I've always wanted to go there. Maybe open up or a restaurant. Anything is better than this place."

Angel closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Oh my God, Santa Fe would be amazing... no cold weather or smoggy air." He opens his eyes again and Collins suddenly realizes that he missed the light in the other man's eyes. "Let's go." Angel's eyes suddenly have a spark of energy.

"What?"

"We'll go. You and me. We'll go to Santa Fe in... oh, November. We can get the nice parts of winter here and leave before it gets nasty and brown! We can buy a restaurant, or we can just work at one. But we'll get out of here, you and I." He informs Collins as his tiny hand grasps the other man's larger one.

Collins just looks at him for a moment, flabbergasted. He's just met this man, and now they're planning a trip together? "Um, I mean... no offense, buddy, but I just met you. Isn't this a little... fast?"

Angel throws his head back and laughs. "Oh sweetheart. With how much time we have left, why on Earth should we waste time?" He catches his breath for a moment before continuing. "It's August. We have until November to get to know each other." Seeing the look on Collins' face, he grows serious. "Look, Collins. I don't mean to freak you out, but I feel like we have a good connection, you know? We both know we're not going to be here much longer. I think we might as well do something we love, and we might as well do it with someone we like, right?"

Collins grins. "You're right. What the Hell, we have time."

Angel is right. They do have a good connection. After they are both released from the hospital, they spend about a week "getting to know each other" before progressing to the "madly in love" stage, and neither Mark nor Roger have ever seen Collins happier. Mimi has moved completely upstairs into the loft and is sharing a room with Roger, Angel has moved in with Collins. With the exception of Maureen and Joanne, the entire family is living cramped into one decidedly spacious but bare loft. Collins and Angel slowly begin planning for their trip.

In the middle of October, Mimi takes a turn for the worse. It's obvious that her lungs are shot, and she is no longer about to stand without Roger's help. They sleep in the living room now, most of the pillows in the loft stockpiled on the cushy old couch to prop Mimi's gaunt frame up. Angel and Mimi have grown incredibly close, and Angel will often hold Mimi and take care of her while the boys get Roger out of the loft. Right now, she is draped across his lap as he dabs her forehead with a cool washcloth. "Angel..." She breaths heavily, "did your mother ever sing to you?"

"Yes, chica. A lot, when I was younger. She had the sweetest voice I'd ever heard." Angel smiles, remembering her. "Whenever I was sick or hurt, she would pull me into her arms and sing. She always smelled so good..."

"What did she sing to you?"

Angel's smile turns distant, but he sings anyway. It's slow and sad, not the way Mimi knows this song, but it is beautiful nonetheless.

"_Arroz con leche,_

_me quiero casar_

_con un mexicano_

_que sepa cantar._

_El hijo del rey_

_me manda un papel,_

_me manda decir que_

_me case con él._

_Con éste si,_

_con éste no,_

_con este mero_

_me caso yo."_

By the time he has stopped singing, Mimi's head has lolled back onto the arm of the couch. Her soft snores reassure Angel, who gently lifts her off of his lap and onto the other end of the couch. He drapes a blanket across her, knowing she probably won't make it through the month.

"That was beautiful." Angel nearly jumps out of his skin as he turns around. Collins comes in by himself, looking exhausted but happy. Angel hops to his feet and greets his lover with a kiss, before Collins pulls the both of them to the couch and Angel onto his lap. "Where are the boys?"

"Mark took Roger to the park. He needs new footage and God knows Roger needs some actual sunlight. With the way he's going, we're gonna have two albinos in the loft soon." He jokes. No matter how much time the blonde filmmaker spends outside, he can never seem to get anything more than a light sunburn. The couple simply kisses for a moment. "How's she doin'?" Collins asks after they pull away, his fingers playing over Angel's soft skin but his eyes on Mimi.

Angel shakes his head. "It won't be long now." He reaches over and pulls back a length of her hair. Her neck is covered in lesions and Collins can see, on closer inspection, that there are several on her face she has caked make-up over. "I wish we could take her out of here, Tom." He tells his lover seriously. "She deserves so much better than this place. We all do. But since we all can't leave," He tenderly smoothes her hair, "we have to make do with what we have."

They sit in comfortable silence, punctuated only by the white noise of the city and Mimi's soft, fluttering snores. Collins kisses several spots on Angel's neck and collarbone. "What does it mean?"

"What does what mean, _mi quierdo_?" Angel softly replies.

"The song. What does it mean?"

Angel laughs. "Well, it roughly means... Rice pudding, I want to marry a Mexican who knows how to sing. The son of the king sent me an order, sent word that I must marry him. With this one yes, with this one no. With the simple man will I wed." He shakes his head. "It's a silly old children's song my Mama used to sing to me when I was little, and Mimi wanted a lullaby."

Collins looks thoughtful. "This sounds familiar. Why do I know this?"

"Did you take Spanish in high school?"

"No, I took Latin... but I swear I know this song!" His brow furrows. "Will you sing it again, baby?" Angel obliges him, and halfway through the song, his face lights up and he lets out a loud laugh, interrupting the song. He immediately checks to make sure Mimi is sleeping peacefully on before continuing. "Angel, baby, do you remember when we first met?" Angel nods. "This is the song that woman was playing on the harp! That's why I remembered it!"

Angel squeals and peppers his face with kisses. "Oh my God, baby, that's right! That's our song!"

He picks Angel up easily and carries her over to their room. Mimi slumbers peacefully on.

They bury Mimi on November 31st. It's chilly and the sky looks foreboding, but the first snow has yet to fall. Roger is a mess. It is only thanks to Angel and Collins' attentiveness that his suit is clean and unwrinkled and that he is clean and scrubbed. His eyes are glassy and bloodshot, the suit belongs to Angel, but it's slightly too big for him and his skin is waxy. Mark taped the service, but has tucked his camera away into his bag so that he can help support Roger. Roger probably won't last long after Christmas, he thinks. He has joined Angel and Collins at the support group they attend, because although he isn't dying, his entire world and family is. Collins and Angel have managed to scare up suits for themselves- Angel was thrilled to find an excuse to shop vintage- and are wrapped up in scarves, gloves and hats. Roger clutches a small, defeated-looking bouquet of daises that he tosses into Mimi's graves before collapsing onto Mark, his entire body consumed with sobs. Joanne stands silently by, paying her respects to a woman she barely knew, before turning and leaving. Maureen has run off to Memphis with a cowboy electrician, leaving her friends and girlfriend without a word.

Collins surveys his friends mournfully. One dead, one soon to go, one somewhere off in Memphis, one who will probably never speak to them again, the lonely survivor... and Angel and himself. Sad and pathetic. They stand at Mimi's graveside awhile longer, before Angel steps forward and sings softly, sadly, under his breath:

"_Arroz con leche,_

_me quiero casar_

_con un mexicano_

_que sepa cantar._

_El hijo del rey_

_me manda un papel,_

_me manda decir que_

_me case con él._

_Con éste si,_

_con éste no,_

_con este mero_

_me caso yo."_

Roger's tears fall more steadily down; his weight pulls the filmmaker down to the cold, hard ground as he sobs, his entire body heaving with the exertion. Mark simply holds him and lets him cry, as he's always done, as he always will do.

Miraculously, they all make it back to the loft in one piece.

They all get through the day in a sort of fog, Collins and Angel never going more than a couple of moments without some sort of contact. Roger becomes upset if Mark lets him go, so the four of them generally sit in the living room and just hold each other. Collins and Angel run out at some indeterminate point and pick up Mexican that everyone picks at for the rest of the day. Finally, Roger manages to cry himself to sleep and Mark signals Collins to help him carry Roger into his room. Mark himself will join him there soon. As soon as the flimsy door is shut, Mark pulls Collins aside.

"When are you leaving for Santa Fe?" Mark asks, deadly serious. It's far too late for any of them to be beating around the bush.

"Angel and I are talking about leaving on December 15th. Why?"

"I want you to take Roger with you." Mark says, a determined gleam in his eye. Collins really looks at him for the first time in a long time, finding what he's looking for in Mark's eyes. "I want you to take Roger to Santa Fe, because if he stays here, he'll die within two weeks and we both know it."

"You love him." It is not a question.

"Of course I do." Mark answers just as calmly. "How could... how could I have gone through so much with him and not be? He's my world, Collins. But he's going to die, and I have to accept it. And as much as it hurts, I need to have some semblance of a life after he dies."

Collins is shocked by Mark's realism. "Are you okay?"

Mark scoffs at this. "Of course not. But it's not about me right now. Don't worry about me." He tells him before retreating into Roger's room. Collins watches Mark crawl in bed next to Roger and hold him, both of them without their coats but still in scarves and gloves. He feels a small piece of his heart break for Mark: Mark, who's never hurt anyone or anything in his life, sweet, self-sacrificing Mark who's given his heart to a dying man with no hope of reciprocation. He shakes his head and walks away, returning to his personal Angel.

December 15th, the three men get off the plane in Santa Fe, the third man in a wheelchair. Collins' family happily welcomes the three of them and Angel is immediately adopted into the family. Roger watches the proceedings with a detached smile, simply taking in the clean air, sunshine and love. He knows Mimi is with him; he can feel it in the wind through his hair. And he is happy. He knows he won't make it to the New Year, but he is more than okay with that. He's at peace with life now. He spends the majority of his time in the kitchen with Collins' grandmother- "Call me Nana, baby!"- or in the living room with Mama and Nana Collins. Nana Collins pulls out her mandolin, Roger plays his guitar and Mama sings along with them. It's one of the happiest times Roger can remember in his life.

Angel and Collins spend their days running around from restaurant to restaurant, fantasizing that they own each one they walk into and coming up with stories behind each one. The change in environment seems to have done both of them good- they both feel better here, they can practically feel the damage done to their bodies reversing.

Christmas approaches quickly. Collins, Angel and most of his family go out to find a tree; Roger stays at home and helps Nana with dinner. The family returns home and everyone trims the tree after a fantastic dinner (with a special vegan plate for Collins, of course). Nana calls the family to order in the living room; the tree is glowing with multi-colored strands of light, garland and handmade ornaments from several generations of Collinses, the candles in the window are lit and everyone is sipping cups of hot cocoa. "Listen, family." She begins, hushing the last few chattering little ones. "It's been a long, long time since we had everybody back here. And this is a very special year, because we're adding Roger and Angel to our family. I know Brett and his family couldn't get here this year, but still. This is probably as close as we'll get to a damn whole-family Christmas!" The family laughs at this. The love and happiness is thick in the air. "I know we have each other, and we'll always have each other, but friends are family, too, and Angel and Roger are a huge part of that. Everybody makes their own family, no matter what anybody says, and we need to love and treasure both of our families, all of our families, however many families we have. Love, be loved, just spread love all around. Have a merry Christmas; you are ALL my family!" She pronounces as she sits. Collins looks at his lover and best friend; both of their eyes are glittering with tears. He kisses Angel as Nana begins plucking a familiar tune on her mandolin and Mama joins in, singing. Eventually, the whole family is singing along.

It's their song. "_Con este mero me caso yo..._" Collins murmurs under his breath, fingering a box in his pocket. "Merry Christmas, Angelcake." He whispers in her ear before kissing her.

* * *

Review please!


	7. The Next Ten Minutes

**A/N:** Well, here it is! It's the last segment of 'Wonderland', and I'm gonna miss this piece a lot. It's shorter than the other ones, but I feel it's just right for what it is. I'm going to be focusing on my forthcoming 'Spring Awakening' story, "Ways A Man Can Go", which will be up at some point, but feel free to shoot me ideas for more RENT!fic. Please review and let me know what you thought!

Disclaimer: Still, sadly, not mine.

* * *

vii. The Next Ten Minutes

July 20th. It's the biggest day of her life. She's sitting at a vanity in the women's bathroom, anxiously staring at her reflection in the mirror. She's glowing; Angel is beautiful as a woman, but she has never looked lovelier. She taps her kabuki brush on the rim of the powder, the excess exploding in a tiny shimmering cloud, before lightly swirling it across her skin.

Gay marriage was legalized in New York four months ago. Collins had immediately dropped to one knee, in the middle of Avenue B, and proposed. Obviously, Angel had accepted and in the incredibly short time span of four months, had thrown together a wedding. They, with the rest of the Bohemian family, have traveled upstate to Aurora, where Collins' family lives. Angel and Collins are getting married in the same church that his parents were married in, years and years ago.

She picks up a smaller brush, dipping it into a pot of creamy off-white shadow and slowly applying it to her eyelid. The make-up brushes are a family heirloom; passed down from mother to daughter, given to her by her grandmother after her mother died. She's treasured them too much to use them before, but if not today, when? The silk kimono that Maureen and Joanne bought for her slides softly against her arm, drawing her attention briefly. At her bachelorette party, the girls had presented it to her proudly, telling her she needed a new dressing gown. She continues to apply her make-up, catching Mimi's eye and smiling at her through the looking-glass. Mimi is styling Angel's wig for today, looking radiant in her purple dress. "You okay, chica?" She asks her, sliding several pins into place.

Angel finishes her other eye, setting the other brush down gently. "Honey, if I were any better, I'd be in Heaven." She tells her with large smile, her eyes shining. "I've never been happier in my entire life, and I'm not even married yet!" She giggles, picking up her liquid liner and uncapping it.

"You look so gorgeous, sweetheart." Maureen tells her as she finishes painting Joanne's nails. "Literally, I have never seen a more beautiful bride. And I mean that." She says with a laugh, punctuating this by kissing Joanne.

Angel finishes the tiny wings on her eyeliner before examining herself in the mirror. "I love you girls so much!" She squeals, spinning in her seat to face her friends. "I couldn't have done any of this without you!" She holds out her arms to the other women, absolutely beaming. "I don't care how cheesy this is. Group hug, right now!" She demands and the other women immediately oblige.

"Are you ready to get dressed?" Mimi asks her with a smile as she steps away, picking up the perfectly coiffed wig. Angel nods and slides the robe off. She has a special shaper today; simple, sexy and white that nips her waist in. The garter belt is lacy and the stockings are simple and sheer, but the garter-

The girls burst into laughter. "Angel, baby... that garter! Where the Hell did you find that?" Maureen gasps. It's bright purple, bedazzled and covered in peacock feathers, with a tiny charm martini glass dangling from the center.

"I made it." She proudly replies, fingering the charm happily. "I figured I might as well give him a surprise during the reception." She says with a wicked smile.

"Wait, you went lingerie shopping without me?" Mimi asks, shocked.

"I took her shopping." Joanne replies, causing Mimi and Maureen to stare. "Well," she says with a light blush, "I'm not really an expert with the other girly stuff, but, mmm... I am certainly an expert on women in lingerie." She finishes with a predatory grin at Maureen, who predictably growls back and launches herself at her girlfriend.

Mimi and Angel share a knowing look and laugh. "Let's get you dressed." Mimi tells her, pulling the garment bag off of the hanging rack and unzipping it. Angel has made herself a tea length gown with a fitted bodice with beading and embroidered flowers, a sash and a full tulle skirt. She feels very 1950s glam in it and cannot wait to see Thomas' face when he sees it on her... or off of her. She shivers as Mimi unzips it, holding it off the floor so that Angel can step into it without getting it dirty. Angel watches in the mirror as the dress molds itself to her form and feels like she can't breathe.

This is it. This is really, really it. Today, she is marrying Professor Thomas B. Collins, her other half, her soul mate. As she places the wig on her head, it really hits her. She's going to _marry_ Thomas. She's going to be somebody's wife. She's... going to faint. "Mimi..." She murmurs, reaching a hand out to her best friend. Mimi immediately grabs her with one hand and with the other, pulls over the little chair she had been sitting on previously. "What if I'm not a good wife?"

"What? Don't be stupid, girl."

"No, I mean it, Mimi! What if I'm a terrible wife?"

"You won't be." Mimi places the stylized veil on top of Angel's wig and secures it with several pins. "Honey." She cups Angel's face in her hands. "You and Collins are so in love, it's stupid. Really. You are stupidly in love. You respect each other, you're each others' best friends, you barely fight and when you do, you don't stay mad. Nothing is going to change except your last name, baby. Nothing that really matters, you know?"

Several tears streak down Angel's cheeks. "You are so lucky I used waterproof, girl." She whispers with a hiccup-y laugh, wiping them away.

Mimi laughs too, reaching behind her. "Look, I have a couple of things for you. Don't," She cuts Angel off, "try to stop me, because one of them isn't even from me, and I want the other one back after the wedding." She smiles, sniffling lightly, before handing Angel two boxes. One is square and white, tied simply with a blue ribbon, and the other is smaller and deep red. Angel decides to unwrap the white one first.

She pulls out two wrist-length powder blue gloves with tiny buttons on the wrists. "Those were my mother's from her junior prom." Mimi tells her wistfully. "They're on loan, and they cover the "borrowed" and "blue" superstition." As Angel simply looks at them in appreciation, Mimi gently tugs them on. "My mother had very long fingers, so they should fit." Once the gloves are on, Angel sweeps Mimi up in a massive hug, lifting the tiny Latina off the ground by several inches.

"You are the best friend a girl could ask for. I love you so much, chica." Angel informs her, once again wiping several tears away. She reaches for the other box, looking at Mimi questioningly. Mimi shrugs. Angel opens the box and a note falls out. Inside the box is a beautiful ivory cameo dangling from a strand of vintage pearls. Both girls gasp. "It's beautiful..." Angel breathes.

"Who's it from?"

Angel picks up the note and reads it.

_To my Angel,_

_I know there's some sort of tradition for the groom to go out and pick up some ridiculously expensive and tacky piece of jewelry for the bride to wear (and return) on her wedding day. I thought about it for awhile; God knows you have more than enough jewelry to cover Tiffany's, so I didn't rush out to buy you diamonds (even though you deserve them, baby). I knew Mimi would blab, so I asked my Mama and Nana about what I should do for you. Nana saved my ass: Papa bought her this for their wedding, and now she's giving it to me for you. I know you'd love something as beautiful, classy and unique as you are, but it has a special meaning to our family, and I'm hoping you'll help keep tradition alive by wearing it today. I haven't seen you in your dress and make-up, and I don't even know if this will match what you're wearing, but no matter what, baby- you're gorgeous. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and the fact that I get to spend the rest of my life waking up to your gorgeous eyes, lips (mouth, hips, legs...) is crazy to me. I love you so much._

_See you up there,_

_Thomas xoxo_

Angel is openly weeping by the end of the letter. Mimi has clasped the necklace around her throat and Angel throws herself into her best friend's arms. "Oh my God, I'm like a leaky faucet!" She howls, once again praising God for waterproof eyeliner and mascara. She knows she'll have to quickly reapply the eye shadow, but this is beyond worth it. How could that _not _make her cry? "That jerk! That low-down, no-good, son-of-a-BITCH!" She sobs into Mimi's neck; Mimi rubs her back soothingly. "I'm gonna be a weepy mess at our wedding, and it's all his fault!"

Maureen and Joanne have come over to investigate by this point and are reading over the letter. "Oh my God..." Maureen breathes. "The perfect man... AND HE'S GAY!" She shrieks, tossing the letter up in the air. Angel sobs even harder while Mimi and Joanne glare at her for different reasons.

"Now is really not the time, honeybear." Joanne says in a terse tone, squeezing Maureen's hand just a touch too tightly.

There is a knock at the door and the women all whirl around nervously. "Who is it?" Mimi calls in a voice verging on hysteria.

"Um... it's Mark." His soft voice floats through the door. "Whenever you ladies are ready, we are."

The girls burst into activity. Angel sits back down at her make-up table to fix her make-up and apply her magenta lipstick while Maureen slides her open toed pumps onto her feet. Angel flashes her a brief smile of gratitude before continuing with the task at hand. Joanne manages to tuck several pins and tissues into her dress for later use. Mimi grabs the girls' bouquets and passes them to each woman before grabbing Angel's own bouquet of pink and yellow roses. "Are you ready to get married?" She asks her best friend, holding out her bouquet.

Angel looks at herself again in the mirror. She feels like a princess: she has the best friends in the world, she's marrying the love of her life and marrying into a wonderful family and she looks fabulous. All is right with the world. She looks at Mimi, takes a deep breath and smiles. "I was born ready, darling." She tells her, rising with the grace and elegance of a queen. And at this moment, more so than any other in her life, she is a queen.

_"Children yet, the tale to hear,_

_Eager eye and willing ear,_

_Lovingly shall nestle near. _

_In a Wonderland they lie,_

_Dreaming as the days go by,_

_Dreaming as the summers die:_

_Ever drifting down the stream,_

_Lingering in the golden gleam,_

_Life, what is it but a dream?"_

"Of Alice in Wonderland", Lewis Carroll

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If you want to see Angel's wedding dress (and her general wedding look), go to: http://media(dot)theknot(dot)com/ImageStage/Objects/0031/0058288/larger_image(dot)jpg

Review!


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